


Undone

by DelicateScholar



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, F/F, F/M, Growing Up Together, Kid Dean Winchester, Kid Sam Winchester, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parental Bobby Singer, Unexpected Visitors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 00:26:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16902603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelicateScholar/pseuds/DelicateScholar
Summary: Beginnings are never easy. Endings are never true, even in death, because people can't escape their own memories.John wants Mary, Mary wants to forget, Bobby wants some goddamn peace and quiet. And a drink.Benny wants love, Sam wants more than he's got, and Dean? That boy never knows what he wants, cause he's too busy trying to hold everyone's pieces together.Nobody gets to be Superman, but there's a whole lotta Batman. Metaphorically.





	1. Jane Says

Her mama always told her she'd come to no good, and her mama was never been wrong.

She squeezed the tiny fingers curled in hers, staring up at the ramshackle house, no different than its dusty neighbors down the road.

Strangely isolated, and a junkyard to the side. Not remotely a safe place for a kid. But the doubt faded as she hiked up the rickety steps. Why should it matter now?

The man who answered the door to the sharp rap was not who she hoped for. 

"What do ya want?" He looked her straight in the eye. Despite the grizzled beard, he couldn't be much older than her. His gaze ran over her uncombed hair and skinny arms, outfit faded from too many washings in harsh, industrial soap.

He looked at her like she was trash, like he could see fresh marks on the inside of her elbows and an itch beneath the surface she couldn't stop scratching.

But what did some backwoods hick in flannel, shoes stained with dirt older than her, know? Her lip curled.

"Excuse me," she said firmly, pulling out the torn White Pages paper in her pocket, "I'm looking for John Winchester."

"Why?" He didn't look away from her, as if the child were invisible. What an odious man.

"So he can meet his son."


	2. Whisper to a Scream

The man stared at her for an eternity before whipping off his cap and disappearing back inside the house. Since he left the door open, she followed inside.

The interior matched the outside: dusty, ancient, like the owner of the house should be fifty years older.

Not that she knew if he lived alone, but it barely looked lived in by one person. 

Yellowing paper sat in stacks on every available surface, empty bottles peeking out from random spots on shelves and rolled carelessly beneath furniture. 

A frame lay facedown on a shed end table, her fingers itched to peek at it. Dead parents? Wife, kids? 

Not that she cared, especially since he shoved his hat back on and began jabbing buttons on the old handset in the kitchen. 

He shot her a look as he stuck the phone between shoulder and ear. "Well take a seat. The boy must be tired."

Dean did look tired. He was quiet and stood by her, like he usually did with strangers. 

"My little solder," she whispered to him with an encouraging squeeze to his chapped little hand. 

Soon he'd be taken care of. They both would.


	3. The Killing Moon

He hung up after a minute and scratched his chin, eyeing her and her boy.

Finally he sighed. "John hasn't lived here in years. He got himself his own."

She thought of the long walk, wary of each car that pulled up on the dusty road to offer her a ride. Gathering her son's thin shoulders in one arm, she nodded. "Fine. Gimme the address and we'll be on our way." 

He squinted at her before grabbing the phone again.

They hadn't eaten since noon, where their ride, some guy in a pickup truck and a little boy in the back, bought them pizza slices and granola bars. 

It'd been hard to get rid of him. She hadn't wanted a ride all the way out to where she'd hoped would be her last stop. 

"You're slurring. Tired, or somethin' else?"

"Tired,  she bit out. 

Her head swam, true, but it'd been nearly a day since she took anything. And she'd been too busy to enjoy the stuff.

She stared at him. He stared at her. 

"Why don't you two take the couch and I'll keep on him." He jerked his head when she didn't move. "Go on now.  

Too swimmy in the head to argue, she walked her son to the old, lumpy sofa and laid down with her arms around the small body tucked into hers. 


	4. The Metro

Mary woke up with a pain in her neckand a cold spot beside her.

"D-Dean! Dean!" When no response came she fell off the couch, crawling to her feet.

The guy, couldn't remember his name, poked his head in the living room. "Calm yerself, he's eating lunch."

She could only blink at him. Her head pounded and her mouth tasted sour and fuzzy.

He shook his head. "Ya slept all day and night. So morning, princess." Then he disappeared.

Mary didn't take time to get herself together before staggering to the kitchen.

Dean sat at the table in front of a huge ceramic yellow plate and a pewter mug.

Breakfast meats sizzled and spit on the stove, where the man stationed himself.

"You okay, Dean?" she croaked.

"Yes mommy," he said quickly, legs kicking. "Mr. Bobby gave me pancakes."

"Only a few," he mumbled, as if pancakes might not be wonderful. "Gave me a right scare with the syrup, thought the river he poured might carry him off."

Her son giggled and thanked Mr. Bobby again when he set two tiny fat sausages on the plate.

"Wanna eat?" Bobby asked, pointing the spatula at her as he returned to the stove.

"Yes," she said, and sat down to eat the breakfast lunch.


	5. A Million Miles Away

"Mr. Bobby" didn't call John again while she was awake, but told Mary over pointed fork that John'd said he'd be there later that day. He had an overnight security job and didn't call back till after he got some sleep.

Mary didn't know if any of that was true, but she nodded and drank the glass of milk he poured for her.

Dean had two glasses of milk, 'a few pancakes', four sausages, three pieces of bacon, and a tiny pile of potatoes. He looked satisfied and sleepy when Bobby took out a dusty VHS tape of Escape to Witch Mountain to put on the TV in the living room.

She tucked him with a thin blanket on the couch and stared at the doorway where Bobby waited to talk.

He didn't say it, but when their eyes met as her son got settled, she knew.

It didn't matter; soon, John would be here. And then she could rest a little.

"Spill," he said as soon as she took a seat.

"About what?"

His eyes narrowed, hers did too. She'd be as insolent as she wanted if he was going to grill her like he had any right.

"John never mentioned a girlfriend."

"I wasn't his girlfriend." She leaned against the back of the chair, crossing her arms. "We met at a party and I stayed for a few days at his buddy's. Then I left."

"And you got pregnant."

"Obviously."

"How d'you know it's his?"

Her cheeks burned.

"He looks like him." It tried to come out forceful, but the words came out thready and high. Because maybe she spent a lot of time telling herself who she had sex with didn't mean anything, but a sick feeling rose up all the same.

Bobby sighed and shook his head. "Here. " He poured her a glass of water and got himself a beer.

"Look." But the words faltered, so she fiddled with the water glass instead.


	6. Need You Tonight

"Hey baby," a voice slurred as an arm slung around Mary's shoulders.

She didn't immediately stiffen. It was that kind of party, people got real friendly. But when she looked up at the young, handsome man he withdrew his arm with a sheepish laugh.

"You're not Jane, I'm sorry."

She smiled. "No, you're fine."

He wore a leather jacket and smelled great, like expensive cologne and scotch. He drank the amber liquid out of a glass tumbler she didn't know Alastair owned. Not at this house.

"Where did you get that glass?"

He looked at it and laughed again, low and rumbly. "I had to dig around in the cupboards. Can't drink scotch from a plastic cup."

She liked his smile, big and open.

"My dad used to drink scotch." The words came tumbling out, making her cringe inside.

An awkward silence fell.

He sipped his drink, then smiled again, smaller this time. "My name is John. Winchester, like the gun."

Her father liked guns as well, but that time she kept that to herself. No use in making a bigger idiot of herself.

"What's your name?"

"Mary."

"John and Mary, huh? Sounds meant to be." He laughed again, eyes warm. 

Everything about him warmed her insides  

Deciding she didn't care who Jane was, Mary leaned closer to the nice-smelling young man and laughed with him the next time.


End file.
